Reign of Wind
by Booksil
Summary: After the death of the King of Rifthold, the Queen of Terrasen makes her way back to her kingdom with her newly built court. But through their travels, old memories reappear to ruin their plans and crumble Aelins reign. {I have not read EMPIRE OF STORMS and this story isn't running along its storyline}
1. Chapter 1

**_I've been writing this for a while now and have finally found the courage to post it! Let me know if you like it!_**

The Queen of Terrasen sat hunched over her fourth pint of watery ale. The ruckus of the filthy inn flushed out the thoughts swarming her mind. She'd found the abandoned cloak in her and Rowans room, though it produced such a foul odor, she traded it for the torn one she was wearing. But now the stench of it couldn't compare to the smell of her profuse sweat and the shabby pub as she sat between to mobs of drunkards.

Aelin grasped the metal tankard, the battered pewter uneven in her palm. Bringing it to her lips she almost gagged into the ale as the man on her left spewed all over his companion. The man then took the vomit from his tunic and threw it onto his friend who'd been in the motion of downing his drink.

She practically threw her ale down onto the bar, wanting to bury herself deeper into the wretched cloak.

Behind her, a continuous stream of heavy footsteps sounded against the wooden floorboards. And as the hours went by she noticed as the footsteps became even more unsteady. But the queen couldn't even feel the alcohol affecting her and wondered just how many drinks these men had had so to become _this_ drunk.

The lighting from the candelabras was so dim the light from the moon streaming through the windows were much brighter. Aelin gazed out beyond the warehouses opposite the inn where she knew Rowan was waiting. She looked over the expanse of rolling hills and gravel roads and wondered if any those roads she took all those years ago to arrive at the once-standing glass castle.

"Looking for anyone special princess?" Aelin, despite herself, almost grinned at the sound of a female's voice as she realized she hadn't heard one since the morning.

A petite woman, but seemingly years older than her, was standing behind the bar. Her red hair was lazily tied in a knot at the top of her head. In her hands she was drying a severely beaten tankard with a haggard piece of scrap, seemingly from an old cloak. Beneath her untamed eyebrows, two doll-like eyes were seemingly examining Aelin, taking in her beaten cloak and dishevelled hair, now coloured an inky black, in a way that wasn't threateningly.

"No one in particular."

"Really?" The woman bent forward, leaning close enough so that Aelin could see a scar marring the skin beneath her eyebrow and smell the tobacco on her breath. Aelin just watched as the barmaid dumped the towel and pint on the counter. The other bartender, an older man with a tattoo of a tree covering is whole gave, gave her a killer glare from where he was pouring pint after pint.

But she just gave him a vulgar gesture, "News is one of the rebel armies who fled Rifthold after the whole thing with the king and Aelin Galanythius are headed this way. Could even be staying in our inns."

The Queen didn't see but heard the approaching rebels, they were so loud she knew everyone around her could.

Behind the counter, the barmaids eyes glinted with mischief, gold gleaming in the light of the candles. Within seconds, a herd of men and woman came around the corner and through the open window Aelin could hear, who she assumed to be the commander, calling orders to tie up their mounts and get their stuff up to their rooms.

A feline grin made Aelins cracked lips ache, "Let's hope they're handsome."

The barmaid winked, tucked a stray strand of her hair behind her ear. A sapphire earring was pinned at the top of her ear, dull with age. Aelin watched the jewel disappear with the barmaid as she sauntered to a table of gamblers, her hips swaying beneath her ragged skirt.

A drunk then slapped her ass.

But before Aelin could rip the hands off the drunk with the bubbling rage inside her, the door of the pub banged open. An assemble of men, all hooded and with sacks at their sides, loomed in the entrance-way of the inn.

Through the musky scent of poisonous ale and rotten wood, _his_ scent caught her out. The jasmine and wild berry soap he'd used all his life still lingered.

And Sam, her former lover who she thought to be dead, dropped his hood and came into the bar.

* * *

Aelin twirled back toward the bar, keeping her face buried in the pint of ale. She watched as small bubbles appeared on top of the drink, pretending to be submerged in the happenings in the tankard. His powerful footsteps came up behind her, stopping just feet away from her.

The heartbeat in her ears roared while she debated to herself whether she'd run or stay. Choosing the latter, Aelin growled to the bartender in a voice that wasn't hers, ordering another drink and threatening that if he didn't he'd be serving his eyes for dessert.

Sam chuckled, groaning slightly as he sat on the stool to her left, not noticing his past lover under the hood, "Tough day?"

It took the queen moments to answer, moments where her heart ached as it threw itself against her ribs. Just as the bartender threw her ale down and it sloshed all over the bar Aelin nursed the pint in her palms, "Tougher than you could imagine."

* * *

A bead of sweat stung the corners of Rowan's eyes, the dagger in his hand gleaming beneath the moon.

He'd been perched on the warehouse roof for the hours Aelin had been in the inn, weighed down under layers of coats. Under the shadows he remained in his Fae form, his hair ruffling in his eyes. Gods, he missed his long hair. Missed Aelins fingers through it.

He was brought to alert as a group of hooded men crowded the atrium of the bar, slowly integrating into the occupants inside.

The slates shifted beneath his feet as he tiptoed over to the pipes snaking up the building.

The slick of rain soaked his palms whilst he threw his legs over the side of the roof. He cradled them around the rusted pipe, pieces of dried paint flaking off. Sliding down the pipe, Rowan heard the whining of more horses making its way through the village.

His feet hit the ground and wet mud covered the hem of his trousers. He threw his hood back over his head and by the time he'd turned towards the inn his hands were shoveled in his pockets where two small blades were hidden.

Beneath his furrowed eyebrows Rowan watched a group of the cloaked men became submerged in laughter. A pile of luggage was pilled to the height of the carriages. They were a plain black, obviously used as to not draw attention to them.

He snaked through a thicket of men and he caught a glimpse of swords strapped to their sides. "If we... Rifthold... kept hidden..."

Clips of conversation caught his attention as we made his way into the inn, making himself move faster as to get Aelin out of there.

He realised who they were and practically ran for the door. Rifthold rebels which are looking for the missing Queen.

He swung the door open, the pungent smell of stale vomit hitting him. He hesitated at the threshold, scanning over the drunkards until he spotted Aelin at the bar, a rebel standing by her.


	2. Chapter 2

Aelin sulked up the mouldy stairs allowing her hand to lazily along the splintering banister. Beside her, Rowan stared blankly straight ahead, listening to the creaking of their feet against the stairs.

"Who was he?" There was a sense of acrimony in his voice, quite uncharacteristic of him. Aelin briefly took a glimpse at him and noticed the way his lips curled at the corners.

"Feeling bitter?" The attempted jest obviously didn't sit well with him as he shot her a lethal glare. She bit down on her bottom lip with the desire to tell him. Looking back down the stairs to where a sluggish walking man with skewed glasses and messy mousy hair was stumbling after them.

Rowan noticed whom she was cautiously looking at and she gave him a slight nod, affirmation she'd tell him in the privacy of their own room.

As they walked the rotten staircase up to the fourth floor in silence, Aelin couldn't help thinking of Sam.

She wondered how.

How was he alive? How hadn't he gone looking for her? How had he stayed hidden? How was he apart of the Rifthold rebels?

How? How? How?

But she also couldn't help but remember the taste of his lips on hers. She thought of the last proper night they'd spent together. She's always fit perfectly against him, snuggled up against the bend of his body and the nave of his neck. Their legs had been intertwined, hers lightly sliding up and down his.

The window above their bed had spilt moonlight across them and as Sam lay beside her. His eyes sparkled the deepest brown that she let herself drown in them. She stared up at the only lover she'd ever known, smiling so bright you couldn't imagine the harrowing past and the tormenting secrets she kept locked away.

"Stop toying with me," he'd whispered, it brushing like a caress across her cheek. Aelin- Celaena- ran her fingertips along his arm, feeling over the dents of hard muscle.

Sam suddenly scooped his arms around her waist, tearing between the distance and kissed her with so much wanting a gasp slipped past her mouth. He rolled on top of her, tongue tailing along her lip. She arched her back against him, feeling the need to touch him in any way possible.

She'd always thought of him as her medicine. His lips against hers healing all things painful and his skin against hers healing all things broken. He'd been the one to ease the fire tearing through her veins, able to cool the heated flames tickling her skin and yet when she was with him she felt a difference kind of heat. A heat that pulls one to another.

They spent their evening trailing kisses over each other and landing themselves in conversation of their future. A future with children running around their grand house in the countryside where no past ghost could haunt them. Where they'd teach their eldest son to ride horses and youngest to fire an arrow. At nights Celaena would have taken their only daughter to their chambers and dress her up in the grandest of gowns. Then, in front of a roaring hearth, their family would huddle together and bathe in the calm.

But the future was not to come; the next day as Sam had been out and Aelin preparing for their leave, he was brutally murdered, slaughtered by their old mentor Arobynn Hamel.

"Aelin," Rowan places a reassuring hand on her shoulder, grounding themselves to a halt.

The inebriated man had vanished to god knows where and they had turned a corner into a corridor where numerous amount of doors were, some barely feet apart.

The walls were a dingy green and the only source of light the smashed window at the end of the hall. Behind Rowan was a squat red door which was easily a head smaller than him and to the right of that, a thin mahogany one with a missing doorknob.

Although the stench of the bar below had vanished, the pungent smell of mould hung in the air.

"What?" She snapped, thrusting her arm out of his reach. To her surprise he jostled slightly.

He arched his eyebrows, obvious irritation in the look. "Well first of all; you were the one to tell all of us to get a good nights rest and yet you were the one who sneaked off to the bar at one o'clock in the morning."

The burst of outrage was sudden and yet expected. He'd taken a step away and as he looked at her she noticed the deep circles under his eyes.

They'd been travelling for only a week but it was long enough to tire them all.

"Second; you sit there for hours knowing I was looking out for you but you still sat and drank."

A young couple stumbled along the corridor towards them, cutting Rowans lecture short to Aelins amusement.

The woman on the left had whispered something into the other girls ear causing them both to burst into laughter. They both wore ragged dresses in a creamy white with brown aprons wrapped around their waists. The first girl was inches taller than the other and had auburn curls tumbling down her back. Just above her eyebrow a small tattoo of a crescent moon was inked into her skin.

The other, with her arms wrapped around her lover, had raven black hair which was twisted into a short braid and ended in a red cloth tying it together. A tattoo of a blazing sun sat above her eyebrow.

"Lucie," The taller one giggled, pointing a shaking finger towards us and then placing it against her lips.

"Sorry," Lucie stumbled over the word as well as her feet and hit the wall loudly. She laughed so loud, Aelin was sure she woke the whole village.

She involuntary cringed at the foolish girl and stuffed her hands into her pockets.

Lucie slid down the wall in complete amusement and curled herself into a ball, howling in laughter, "Sarah," she managed to choke out, reaching her hands out.

The other girl- Sarah- also consumed in laughter helped Lucie to her feet and they tried once again to make their way to their room.

As they came closer, Rowan and Aelin created a gap between themselves and shot the other a look.

"Thank you," Sarah chuckled, tucking a red curl behind her ear. The two continued to giggle all the way to their room.

Rowan waited until they had vanished to step so close to Aelin so she could feel his anger against her face, "What kind of queen are you?"

A rare fury, one of complete protectiveness over her kingdom ripped through Aelin. Suddenly her hand which was in the trouser pocket now soared through the air and collided with a loud slap against Rowans cheek. His head barely moved an inch although his inked cheek flared red. Venom practically soaked from his pores at the words coming from Aelins lips, "You may be something special amongst the Fae, but to me you are a member of my court and if you dare question my loyalty to my kingdom I will personally tear you to shreds."

Rowan released a heavy breath and the chill from it reminded Aelin just how close she'd gotten to his face. At her side she felt a nipping pain from where her hand was balled in a fist so tight her nails dug into her palm.

The Queen stared at her Prince silently for a few extra moments, peering deeply into the green of his eyes. Typically, they reminded her of crisp mornings, beautiful grass glinting as the sun encompassed the sky in her light. But now, all she could see was dark nothingness, his pupils swallowed the pine-green irises.

To her dismay, Aelin took a shuddering breath and her teeth stopped grinding against themselves. The uneven floor creaked beneath Rowans heavy boots and his long hands wrapped around her waist, pushing her back into the wall. Cocking her head to the side she watched as the darkness faded from his eyes and drops of rain seemed to seep from the tips of his hair.

She suddenly became cautious of how cracked her lips were and licked them instinctively.

Not only was rage running through her veins but a sway of lust rippled through, allowing her body to sink into his touch. She cursed herself for being a stumbling fool over him. She'd just seen one of the most important people in her life after he allegedly died and yet all she wanted was to hold Rowan until her body tired to unusable.

Like magnets, theirs eyes never disconnected, even as one of his hands slid from her waist, curving over the shape of her breast until it was tucking a stray hair from her face. She could read that he wanted the same as her in his movements, in the delicate way his fingers grazed her neck, sliding along her jaw.

"Don't," she whispered but with little meaning.

He pulled her lips to his in a whisper of a kiss, and yet, just that light touch, shredded through any restraint she had.


End file.
